


Legendary

by kathiann



Series: Big Bang [1]
Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Drama, Gen, Murder, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:24:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 12,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathiann/pseuds/kathiann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They never knew what was going to happen with Red John, they never knew what was going through his mind, they never knew anything about him. Sometimes, things change. Written for the Mentalist BigBang on livejournal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Mentalist Bib Bang over on live journal. A special thanks to eve215 and twisted_slinky for the pushing and prodding to help me get this story done (and just under the wire might I add) and to twisted_slinky for the lovely art which you see as the cover here and can be seen on my journal in full.

They called him legendary because he was the one that baffled them all. And with a sweep of his fingers and a slash of his knife he brought fear and anger to everyone he meet…or didn't meet. He was a shadow always watching, a nightmare that never quite went away when you were awake. You saw him out of the corner of your eye, even though you didn't know who he was. And if you had the good fortune to meet him then you would only need to meet him once to know that the tales they told were true.


	2. Red John

_I often watch people through the windows of their homes. I have a dog, not many people know that about me. Just a small one, a dog that people look at and think 'oh how cute' before walking on by. The dog is really the only companion I can trust. Dogs don't run to the cops when they get scared, dogs don't tell secrets. I take him out for walks every night, a different neighborhood each tome if I can manage, and look in living room windows. My dog likes to smell things, it's something I've encouraged in him. The longer it takes for him to do his business, the longer I get to look around._

_I see families at dinner, mothers and fathers and children, all sitting down to eat. I see the bachelors watching TV and eating frozen food. And I see the women. Married, single, mothers, sisters. They are all there on display for me._

_No, I'm not some sort of common Peeping Tom; anyone could peek in bedroom windows and catch someone undressing. It takes a skill to observe them in full view without their knowledge. This is my skill. This is what I am best at._

_Today it's Sacramento, a middle of the road suburb, nothing fancy, nothing too over stated. But this is special. Here, in this mass of track houses and condos is a woman who thinks she can face off against me and win. And that will not do._


	3. Lisbon

I danced along to the music streaming from my iPod. I had wondered if I'd use the dock enough when I bought it, but was glad that I'd gotten it now. There was just something about dancing barefoot in the kitchen while cooking. Something that my mother and I used to do and that brought back bitter sweet memories and usually made me smile.

I stirred the pot on the stove and smiled at the smell. A new recipe that I found for chicken soup. I loved chicken soup, especially in the fall and winter. The pot of soup I was making would give me not only dinner tonight, but also lunch for tomorrow and enough in the freezer that I would be able to have it for a meal at least four more times, and that would be big bowlfuls.

I pulled the spoon I had been stirring with gently out of the soup pot and took a sip of the flavorful broth. Though it was hot it was like liquid gold in my mouth. It was amazing. I would definitely be making this soup again. I turned off the heat and pulled a bowl from my cupboard. I picked these heavy stoneware bowls out when I first moved to Sacramento. I'd loved them so much I kept them and moved them from one apartment to another. They were deep, perfect for soup or ice cream after a long day in the field. The dark color of the glaze always reminded me of my grandparent's basement walls, the dark wood paneling and the cherry carpet. Warm and inviting in the way that only a grandparent's house could be.

I ladled the soup into the bowl and went to sit at the small table I had set up in the corner. It was a recent acquisition to my apartment. I'd decided that I needed something more than a coffee table when I was home at night. I wanted to be able to sit at a table like a civilized person. It would have been nice had I family to share it with, but Tommy hadn't been around lately, so I hadn't seen him or Annie in a while. I missed them both. I missed all my family. Most of them were still back east. I thought on occasion about moving back there, but I'm far too attached to my life here, to my job, my team.

I sighed at took a bight of my soup. It was good, a bit warm still, but good. I looked out the window in front of my table as I waited for the soup to cool slightly. There was a woman out jogging, her shoes and jacket reflecting the little bits of light shining from the windows she was passing. I wondered at the wisdom of her jogging alone at this time of night. Sure, this was a relatively safe neighborhood, but it still was better to be cautious.

I took another spoon full and looked again. There was a man walking his dog. They were slowly walking along. The dog seemed interested in every flower and bush and blade of grass that they passed. The man didn't seem rushed at all. I looked at him a bit longer, he was middle aged, I think, a baseball cap hid most of his features. I didn't recognize him and wondered if I had a new neighbor or if he simply lived a few streets away.

I looked down at my soup and brought another bite to my mouth. When I looked out the window again the man was gone.


	4. Red John

_I waited until all of the houses were dark. Her light was the last to go out, but that didn't surprise me. I knew she was a workaholic and I wouldn't be surprised if she had cold case files sitting on her bedside table as light reading before sleeping. As much as I longed to go to her, I knew that it would not be a wise chose. I wanted to play the long game with her; I wanted to make her want me to come. Tonight was the first step of many to infiltrate her life, to make her know the want that I felt when I looked at her._

_I didn't just look in her window tonight. I didn't just spy on her. I saw her neighbor too. The poor woman. She'd had a fight with her boyfriend. I'd seen the whole thing from across the street. There was barely controlled rage and the shouting…I could just imagine what it would have been like. No, I don't enjoy seeing a couple fight, but the outcome, the man leaving with a packed bag and the woman crumpling onto the floor, that was something I could appreciate. I watched as she poured a glass of wine, her hands shaking, barely making it to the glass without spilling the deep red liquid. And then I watched as more and more of the wine was poured. The whole bottle was gone quicker than I thought it would happen._

_I knew when I saw her that she would be my first gift for the lovely Teresa Lisbon. I didn't know the young woman's name, but I knew that Teresa would appreciate it none the less. Once Teresa's light was off I made my way to her neighbor's house. I hesitated just briefly on the sidewalk before their houses, I wanted so to visit Teresa, but I resisted, now was not the time. Right now I had a goal, to show her how much I had grown to appreciate her. I didn't know when Teresa would discover my present for her, but I knew, when she did that she would appreciate it._

_I jimmied the lock on the back door. The woman hadn't bothered to lock the deadbolt, that made it that much easier. The house was dark, but the light from the street outside gave enough to see where I was going. I wasn't an amateur; I knew that using a flashlight would be a dead giveaway. And turning on any lights was likely to attract the attention of the family across the street that had been handling a colicky baby all night._

_I crept up the stairs, slowly, careful not to put too much weight on them. This home wasn't old by any means, but a person can never be too careful when they are sneaking around. One stray floor board can you could be discovered prematurely. The anticipation, the terror in the eyes of the woman in bed when you wake them and they see you for the first time, it's the stuff dreams are made of._

_I guessed as to the bedroom she was sleeping in. There weren't that many doors at the top of the stairs. I wondered if this house was set up the same way that Teresa's house. They were neighbors, and from the outside they looked the same. I smiled. When it came time I would be able to more easily find Teresa._

_But now I needed to focus on the task at hand. The woman in this house. She'd probably cried herself to sleep, wallowing in self-pity at a relationship turned sour. Maybe she'd assumed that in the morning her lover would come back and everything would be all better._

_I turned the knob on the door and slowly pushed it open. There was the bed; the light filtering in the window fell on the lump covered in a soft looking quilt. She made a noise in her sleep, half way between a snore and a snort. It was almost cute. I pulled out my knife and stepped up to her bed. A placed a hand on her shoulder, startling her awake._

_She didn't get a chance to scream._


	5. Lisbon

I hit the snooze button the first time my alarm went off. I did that on purpose. It made it seem like I was getting more sleep. I wasn't really, but if was the illusion that counted. When I did roll out of bed I was already mostly awake. I shuffled to the shower, striping off my t-shirt and shorts, turning on the water as I looked in the mirror and rubbed at my eyes. I looked old this morning. I hated that. I put a hand on my stomach and looked sidewise in the mirror, I'd put on a few pounds the last few months. Not enough that most people would notice, but enough so that my stomach wasn't as flat as I'd like. I needed to start running again.

I wasn't in the shower for very long, just long enough to wash my hair and soap up my body. The water was nice and warm, but I knew if I lingered I would be late for work. I wanted a cup of coffee before I left and I wanted to get to work a bit earlier so that I could finish up a report that I'd left half-finished so I could come home to make my soup. I toweled off, wrapping the large fluffy towel around me and walked to my closest. I sighed when I opened it. I sometimes wished I was in a line of work that would have allowed me to dress a bit more feminine. Sure I could always wear a skirt, but I never knew when I might have to tackle a suspect or go on a foot chase. Skirts and heels wouldn't be very good in either of those situations.

I pulled out a dark pair of jeans and a dark shirt, what some might call my uniform. After I dressed I quickly blow dried my hair. It was going in a ponytail today so I wasn't too worried about getting it perfectly straight.

I finished dressing and doing my hair and what minimalistic makeup I usually wore and went down the stairs. I inhaled the aroma of fresh coffee. I had needed a new coffee maker a few months ago and had debated on the plethora of choices on the market. Though I had considered one of the single cup varieties, the one I'd finally purchased was a programmable stainless steel model. I set it each morning and by the time I was out of the shower there was a pot of hot coffee waiting for me.

I took the time to finish a slow cup of coffee. Sitting at the table with a bowl of cold cereal getting soggy and a hot cup of coffee wrapped in my hands was the perfect way to start the morning. I looked out the window and watched as the cars passed by. A busy morning as always. I noticed my neighbor's boyfriend pull up in front of her place. They'd had a fight last night, I could hear the shouting. That wasn't all together unusual for them. They were always fighting over something. Last night was a bit odd though in that the boyfriend had left after their fight. It must have been worse than usual.

I was just pouring the extra milk and the last few soggy flakes down the kitchen drain when I heard the sirens. My street wasn't exactly quiet, being close to a major thoroughfare and often used as a bypass to the busier street close by, but emergency vehicles didn't often come down my here. I saw a fire truck pull up in front of my house and the first responders jump out grabbing bags before rushing next door.

A sick feeling settled into the pit of my stomach. My neighbor might be one to over indulge in wine after a fight with her boyfriend, but I didn't think she was likely to do something stupid. Grabbing my jacket and keys I stepped outside to see the boyfriend standing on the front steps, panic in his eyes and a hand to his mouth. I tried to remember his name—Aiden, Jack, Henry—something more common with the children of acquaintances than of men his age. In the end I didn't have to remember. He called me over.

"Teresa!" His voice was shaky and unsure. I walked towards him quickly, skipping down my steps and up his faster than I normally would have.

"What's going on, what's wrong with Jane." I blessed myself for remembering my neighbor's name. I'd meet her several times, and even ran into her at the grocery store, but we rarely spent more than just a few seconds talking to each other. Normally her name amused me; today it just filled me with dread.

"There was so much blood." He sobbed out. Not the reaction I was expecting.

"Did she…" I wasn't sure how to ask, but was curious none the less.

"And on the wall…" He stopped speaking, the panic in his eyes turning slightly to a more haunted look. He didn't have to finish his sentence before I knew. I pushed past him and ignored the calls of the newly arrived ambulance. I had to see I had to know.

I ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Her bedroom was in the same place mine was. There were large medical bags littering the hallway, I could hear the firefighters in the bedroom, not sure if they were trying to revive her or if they were just talking, but I didn't care. I saw only one thing, on the wall, in blood, a smiley face, mocking me.


	6. Cho

"Anyone seen the boss?" I asked, looking around the bull pen.

"Sorry, Cho, she's not in her office. I don't think she's been in at all." Rigsby answered, looking around.

"Her car's not in the parking lot" Grace said, coming back to her desk from the break room. On my look she defended her statement "What? I noticed when I came in this morning. It's a habit, looking for cars I recognize and that might be out of place."

I didn't question her paranoia. It made sense after all that she'd been through. Jane didn't say anything; he just lay on his couch. I decided to ask him directly. I walked up to him and stood there, arms crossed hoping that he would open his eyes and stop pretending not to notice I was there.

"Jane, have you heard form Lisbon this morning?"

The man opened his eyes and looked at me as if surprised that I was there. "Cho! I didn't see you there."

"Yeah, right." I huffed. "Have you heard form Lisbon?"

"No, I haven't. I'm sure she has a perfectly good reason for being late."

"Maybe." I shrugged and went back to my desk. It wasn't like her to be late, and I was a bit worried, though I did my best to hide it. It wasn't hard. I sat there for a few more minutes and was about to pick up my phone and call her when the phone rang.

"Cho," I answered, not bothering to look at the caller ID. The voice on the other end was slightly panicked, but hiding it well. Jane wasn't the only one who could pick up on subtle ques. I kept my face passive as I listened and then hung up without saying goodbye at the end of the conversation.

"We've got a case." I said, grabbing my suite coat off the back of my chair and putting it on.

"Where at?" Grace asked strapping on her gun.

"Lisbon's neighbor." I saw Jane's head pop up out of the corner of my eye.

"And what has her neighbor done that has warranted the attention of the CBI's serious crimes unit?" Jane asked as he got up and walked with the rest of us to the elevator.

"She got killed by Red John."


	7. Red John

_I watched from a distance as the emergency vehicles first arrived. And then as Teresa, lovely lovely Teresa, spoke to the man, the boyfriend. I knew from the look on her face that she knew I had left this present for her. I didn't have to wait much longer before the rest of my friends arrived. Patrick Jane. My dear old friend. He looked panicked. But that was to be expected. He always did when I'd left a surprise for him. I watched as they all went into the house and then walked away, my dog sniffing in front of me._


	8. Lisbon

I don't know how I made the phone call to Cho, or why I had picked him to call. Maybe because I knew of all the people on my team that he would remain the calmest. I knew I couldn't call Jane. He would fly off the handle and not tell the team where he was going; just show up here alone and panicked. Van Pelt had too much history with Red John herself to make it all together safe for her to be the first to know that he'd stuck this close to home. And Rigsby was just too happy. His life was going too well to have to be the bearer of bad news.

I don't know how long it took them to get to my place. I doubt it was the twenty minutes it usually takes me. I've no doubt that sirens may have been applied, even though the woman in the bed in front of me was dead.

The firefighters, and later the EMTs didn't touch the body. When SACPD arrived they talked to the boyfriend quickly for me, asking if he had touched the body. And then I sent everyone away from the room. I stood there alone, just me and that face in a staring contest I was sure to loose, until Jane arrived by my side

"You're not going to figure it out by staring at it." He said quietly in my ear, causing me to jump even though I knew he had joined me in the room.

"I keep hoping it was a mistake."

"It wasn't."

"I know."

We look at the face, as it waiting for it to do a trick or change in some way, but it didn't. It was steadfast and unmovable; a testament forever to the horror that had taken place in this room.

"He knows where I live."

Jane side stepped towards me as if to offer comfort but he doesn't reach out the last few inches and touch me.

"Did you ever doubt that?" His voice was almost amused and did nothing to calm the growing sense of fear and dread gathering in the pit of my stomach.

"I had hopped…" I trailed off. I knew intuitively that Red John knew more about us than we knew about him. He'd hacked into the secure federal database at least once that we knew of. He'd had several moles positioned within the CBI and in close proximity to not only me and my team but all the information we had on Red John as well. One of the moles had even been intimately connected to my team. We had trusted him completely and had almost died because of that trust.

"It's a change from normal." Jane said, breaking his gaze of the wall. His comment shook me and I looked over at him, I could still see the face out of the corner of my eye.

"How so?" I could hear people coming up the stairs but ignored the.

"It doesn't look like he's taunting me with this killing." He paused and I turned my full attention to him. I knew the people were still coming up the stairs, I knew that we wouldn't be alone with our thoughts and secrets much longer. "He's taunting you."


	9. Red John

_The next time I came down Teresa's block it was dark. There was a more guarded feeling to the street. The blinds in all of the houses were closed tight, but the lights were all on, casting a vague hazy glow onto the sidewalk. My dog was having fun playing in the light from the windows. There was only one house on the block that is dark._

_My dear sweet Teresa was still hard at work. Her front curtains still wide open like they had been the night before; no lights were on at her house. I could see people moving in and around the house next door still. Processing the scene, hoping for anything that might be of help in catching the most legendary serial killer that California has known._

_I did wish that I could see Teresa, but she wasn't home. She was probably at the CBI office, pretending to work. I did hope that my gift has had its intended effect. I did not want to scare her from her home, only show her how much I have grown to appreciate her in these years that she's been working with Patrick. I have many times underestimated her._

_I used to wonder what it was that Patrick saw in her, what it was that had him so desperate to protect her. But now I think I know. She's a wonder, she's a marvel. There's no one like her. Yes, I've had my fair share of women, there are any number that would throw themselves at me if given the chance, but Teresa, she resists. She's resisted Patrick all these years, and she resists me now._

_I didn't spend any more time that I needed to on her street; I didn't want to arouse suspicion. I glanced one last time at her dark house and turned the corner. It was time to start working on my next gift._


	10. Jane

I shouldn't be hiding in the attic. I should be down stairs, in the bullpen, trying to help the team, trying to figure out who it is that has been toying with Lisbon. My Lisbon. I felt a possessive twinge at the thought of Red John pursuing her and I'm not sure if it's because I've always thought of Lisbon as my friend or because I've always thought of Red John as mine. I'm not as bothered by that thought as I probably should be though. I stared in frustration at the files spread around me. My notebook open on my lap, names scrawled and crossed out. Half formed thoughts and phrases littering the pages. I know him, I know Red John better than anyone else does, and still he eludes me.

And now this change. Why now? I wonder if it is somehow my fault. I wonder if somehow me being with Lorelei, capturing her, breaking her out, has shifted attention from me to Lisbon. His request…Lisbon's head on a platter, like a biblical sacrifice. Proof of loyalty. And I couldn't do it. I couldn't kill Lisbon, even if that meant being able to get Red John. And now…Red John had turned his sights on her.

Everything in my life has been touched by that man and I seem powerless to stop it. I hadn't spent near as much time as I should have at the crime scene. I've seen so many Red John crime scenes that there never seems to be any difference. I didn't talk to the neighbors, what would be the point? He's too clever to get caught by a busy body or a Peeping Tom.

I felt a twinge of hunger in my gut and look at my watch; it's after 7:00. We've been back at the CBI since just after noon. The rest of the team felt like I did, there was no point looking around; there would be nothing new to look at, nothing new to learn.

I left the attic only after making sure that all of my notes were well hidden, I didn't want to run the risk of someone finding them and thinking I was giving up, or worse, was on the way to an actual mental breakdown. I knew from experience that written ramblings often made a person look crazy.

I was just coming into the bullpen when I heard the unmistakable voice of a very pissed off Teresa Lisbon.

"Why are you three just sitting here? You should be back out there trying the people who weren't home this afternoon."

I wanted to look, but decided that it wouldn't be the best idea. I knew why she was upset. I would be too, who am I kidding, I was. But I know as well as she does that no one will have seen anything that matters. No one will have noticed anything that makes difference. No one ever sees anything.

I hid in the break room making a cup of tea until Cho and Van Pelt left the bullpen. I waved them into the break room without making it too obvious.

"What's going on?" They looked at me like I was crazy, as if I'd asked if my face was covered in purple spots or if the rain was falling up.

"The boss is…" Van Pelt started but trailed off, not sure how to continue.

"It's Red John, Jane. You know how it is." Cho finished, his arms crossed over his body in a somewhat more defensive stance than I would have expected from him. I just nodded my head. I did know how it was. Red John could get to a person, I should know better than anyone.

"What are you guys going to do?" I asked, not sure if they were actually going to go back and canvas Lisbon's neighborhood again.

"We're going to do what she asked." Van Pelt told me, looking tired and weary. Red John was getting to her too. I could sense that she was ready to be done with him. With his playing and twisting in our lives.

"You never know," Cho said, as they turned to leave, "Someone might have actually seen something."

I watched them leave and then sagged against the counter. Normally I would be more fired up about a Red John case, normally I would be the one insisting on canvasing the neighborhood, looking for cameras or hoping that Red John somehow slipped up, but I wasn't this time and that bothered me. Was it because Lisbon had suddenly, well maybe not suddenly, finally garnered Red John's attention? Was I jealous that Lisbon was getting the attention of a serial killer? Was I annoyed that I was no longer the toy to be taunted with? Quite possibly I was. And as much as I knew that was the wrong way to be thinking, I couldn't help it. I wanted him back for myself.

I didn't like this not knowing with Red John. Though he had always been one step ahead of me I had still always seemed to know where I stood with him, and now I wasn't sure. I knew that he had used murder to get close to some of his minions before, but I wasn't sure if this was the case with Lisbon. I didn't know if he was looking to win her over, or drive me crazy.

I found that I no longer wanted tea. I needed to get out of the building, go for a walk, clear my head. There were too many people here, even in my attic, there was too much there. Too many ghosts haunting me. Too much keeping me trapped in my mind.

I left the building, not sure where I was going, not really having a destination in mind. I just needed to get out. I didn't take my car, I just took my feet. The night was cool, not quite cold, but still cool. I wished briefly that I had gone back to the attic and grabbed my coat, but just brushed the thought off. If I walked long enough I knew that I would warm up.


	11. Lisbon

I know I shouldn't yell at them. I also know that at 8:00 at night they probably aren't going to find anything or even have people answer doors, especially after what happened today…or last night. Whatever. All I know is that I can't go home. I should. I should go back to my place just to prove to Red John that he hasn't won. That I cannot be manipulated. But that would be a lie. It's going to be a while before I can turn onto my street and pull up to my house without a shudder of fear going down my back. There is no way I could sleep tonight, knowing that he knows where I live, that he can come into my house, that he could be there watching me and I would never know.

I sat at my desk, worn out and exhausted. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to shoot something. But mostly, I wanted to cry. I wanted to break down. The emotional roller coaster I'd been on all day, coupled with the stress of another Red John case and another unsolvable crime weighed heavily on my shoulders. I didn't know what to do. I never did with Red John. We could never catch up to him. He was always three steps in front of us and rounding a corner. Always just right outside of our grasp.

"You need to eat something." The only reason I don't scream when Jane spoke was because my teeth were clenched and my jaw was so tight I doubt anything could get through.

I didn't answer. I wasn't leaving here, or at least, I wasn't going home. I couldn't feel safe anywhere near there. Even though I _knew_ that Red John knew where I lived, even though I think I _always_ knew that he knew where I was, I still liked to pretend that he didn't follow our every move, our cases, our lives. I wondered if I would ever be able to go home and not wonder about him watching me.

"I never said you had to leave." Jane spoke again, but this time my heart didn't speed up with terror and fear, I knew he was there.

"Stop reading my mind." I was looking at papers on my desk, but not reading any of them. It was the same case files I'd been over a hundred times with every Red John case we've had.

"You know I didn't read your mind." Jane said, coming further into my office from the door way he had been standing by. "I brought you a turkey sandwich from the bakery you love down the street and a brownie, because I had one and they're pretty good, so I thought you might like one."

He placed a plane white bag on my desk before sitting on the couch near my desk. I wished that he would just leave. Jane sitting there was a constant reminder that Red John had killed my neighbor, not his. That Red John had coupled himself with my life. I didn't need the guilt I was feeling over that. I would gladly give Jane back Red John if I could. I didn't want any part of him in my life, but it didn't seem that it was going to work that way.

I went back to looking at the file in my hand. Witness statements from the last Red John murder. No one had seen anything really. Same as always. There was one person interviewed who had reported something odd, but that had turned out to be nothing. Just someone out walking their dog. That wasn't wholly unusual. Especially considering the area where the last Red John killing had taken place was near a park.

"No one ever sees anything. No one ever hears anything. It's like Red John is a ghost. He slips in through the cracks in windows and doors and leaves much the same way."

There was silence from Jane at my statement. Not that I expected him to say anything. I sigh and open the bag in front of me. I do enjoy the food from the small bakery/café down that had opened recently near the CBI building. And I'd had the brownies before and knew from experience that they were rich and moist and chocolaty. I just didn't know if I could stomach one right now. I didn't know if I would be able to eat anything, but I was going to try.


	12. Red John

_A new neighborhood tonight. It's a bit latter than I would have liked, but it is not the typical type of neighborhood I visit. I almost left my dog at home tonight. This was going to be fast. The man I was after didn't deserve my time. This was not done for pleasure. I was here because I knew that Teresa would appreciate my gift. This gift is one that I knew she could not give herself._

_I had followed her manic obsession with this man from the first time they met to when she finally shot him. But she was too altruistic, too pure. She hadn't shot to kill, much as I'm sure she would have wanted to._

_I don't like to make mistakes, so tonight is just to make sure that I know where I'm going, though I've done my homework so there shouldn't be a problem. The house is large, and I'm sure that the man living here thinks that he's protected from the outside world. Maybe he is, but I'm not the outside. I am the thing that lurks in the corner of the mind of a man like this. He thinks he is clever. He thinks he is above the law. But I know different. I know because I am the law. I am judge and jury. And I will be executioner._


	13. Lisbon

I don't know when I fell asleep, but I know when I woke up. It was early; there was light coming in my office window where before it had just been blackness. My back hurts. I fell asleep leaning over my desk. I must have been exhausted to not even notice. I stretched, a pain shooting down my neck, and then stand. I needed to change, but still had no desire to go home. Just the thought of being that close to Red John…I couldn't do it. I thanked whatever had possessed me to leave my go bag at the office the last time we had gone out of town. I still had a clean change of clothes in there. I could make a quick trip to the gym for a shower and then back to work, hopefully before anyone got there.

As I grabbed my bag and made my way to the gym, I wondered idly when Jane had left my office. I didn't remember him leaving and wondered if he'd left after I'd fallen asleep or if I'd been so absorbed in the old case files that I'd missed him leaving. I knew Jane was less than thrilled and the situation with Red John. I knew I was. I didn't quite know how to act around him. It was as if I was walking on egg shells every time I saw him. I didn't want to say the wrong thing. I knew that when it came to Red John Jane was always a bit unstable, and now with this seemingly new development, I didn't know what he was going to do. There was always the hope that the murder had been a fluke. Just a way to throw a wrench between me and Jane. That Red John was still taunting him.

I got into the shower thinking about Red John and quickly washed my hair and body. I got out and quickly dressed, smoothing my hair back into a pony tail. I had no desire for a long lingering shower or fancy hairdo today. I had a theory about this murder that I wanted to run by Jane.

I hurried to the attic after I had left my things in my office. I didn't know if he was going to be in there or not, but I didn't think he would have left last night. Considering the last time I remember seeing him in my office it was well after midnight. It occurred to me just as I was coming to be attic door that none of the team had come back last night and I made a mental note to apologize to them for yelling at them all the day before.

I didn't bother knocking on the door; I didn't think he would let me in if given the choice. The attic looked much the same as it did the last time I was in there, notes scattered everywhere, rolling board covered in maps and photos, a general sense of chaos and disarray that seemed to embody Jane. I almost didn't see him on the cot that had been pushed up against the wall.

"I know you're not sleeping." I said, looking at him. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was lying on his side, a posse I'd seen him in many times when he was trying to sleep but not doing a very good job of it.

"Now who's the mind reader?" His voice sounded different and in spite of myself I began to worry just a bit.

"I had a theory." I said, stepping a bit closer to him, but still hanging back, close to the door. I didn't want to be too close to him right now. It seemed right to keep my distance.

Jane opened his eyes and sat up. "About the case? About Red John?"

I recognized the tone in his voice, and it worried me. He always got that tone when talking about Red John, when he felt that we were getting close.

"In a way." I said, not wanting him to get his hopes up. "Red John knows that you like me, or at the very least respect me. Why else would he have picked me for you to kill when…" I trailed off, not sure how to describe that particular Red John escapade. Jane just looked at me, expectantly, waiting for me to go on. "Anyway, what if killing my neighbor didn't mean that he was taunting me? What if it didn't mean anything? What if he only killed her to try to drive a wedge between us? What if he's still taunting you? Trying to tell you that he is better than you, that he can manipulate you…or that he can manipulate you into thinking that he has somehow moved on from needing to be with you? Needing you as a foil? What if this is just all some sort of a plan to torture you even more?"

Jane was silent, and I found myself unsure of what to do with my hands and feet. I felt awkward standing there in the middle of the attic, surrounded by Red John with Jane looking like a sick kicked puppy.

"You're saying that you think that Red John killing your neighbor was nothing more than a ploy to drive a wedge between us and ruin our friendship?"

"Exactly." I hopped that this was true. It was the only thing that made sense, the only thing that would return us to a somewhat normal in regard to Red John.

Jane nodded and stood up. He walked around the attic slightly, moving in a circle, looking at the board, looking at the notes and the files and the pictures. I didn't know what to think, I didn't know what to say. All I knew was that if this didn't work, if what I had proposed wasn't true, or if Jane didn't agree, that things were going to be uncomfortable and strained between me and Jane. That our relationship would suffer and because of that our work.

"I suppose that makes as much as anything." Jane said finally, turning to face me for the first time. He still had the slightly wild look in his eyes that he got when he was thinking of Red John, but the depressed manic look was gone. I was slightly relieved, I had hated that I was the cause of him being off kilter, even if it was indirectly.

"Shall we go to work?" Jane asked, after we had stood in silence for a while.

"Yeah, I don't remember Cho and Van Pelt coming back last night, I wonder if they found anything talking to the neighbors last night." I said, walking out of the room and down the stairs.

"I doubt it, but you never know. I live with the hope that Red John will screw up one day." Jane said, walking slightly behind her.

As we neared the bullpen we heard the team talking, though what they were saying wasn't clear until we got closer.

"I'm telling you it probably isn't anything." Rigsby said.

"We should still tell them, you never know." Van Pelt sounded unsure of her of herself, but I wasn't sure why, other than she always seems a bit unsure, even after five years on my team.

"Tell us what?" I asked, meaning to catch them by surprise.

"We found something last night talking to the neighbors that weren't home when we canvased during the day." Cho spoke with a note of authority and annoyance.

"Somebody saw Red John?" Jane asked with amusement as he sat on his couch.

"Not really." Van Pelt said turning to a small notebook that was open on her desk. "A Robert Jackson said he saw a man walking a dog that he's not seen before. He said that he works the late shift at the 24 hour gym downtown and always leaves at the same time every night, so it is possible that the man walking the dog was just out earlier than usual."

"Was there anything remarkable or memorable about the man?" Lisbon asked, leaning against Jane's seldom used desk.

"No. But a Mrs. Janelle Clemons also reported seeing the same man. She said he caught him looking in her window, not obviously looking, just standing in front of her house looking for a little longer than strictly necessary. She said he gave her the creeps. She wasn't home yesterday morning because she'd gotten a call from her daughter around 6:00 AM asking her to come over and watch a sick grandchild." Grace put down her notebook and swiveled in her chair to fully face me and Jane, having finished what she was planning on saying.

"So two people saw the same man with a dog?" Jane asked, and I wasn't sure if he was annoyed at the news or looking for straws to grasp.

"We think it was the same man. They both said he was wearing a red trucker style hat." Cho said, looking at the both of us and not at his notes in front of him.

I sat there not saying anything. There was something about the description of a man with a dog and a ball cap that was tugging at the back of my brain, but I couldn't think of what it was. I shook my head to clear it. With any luck it would come back to me.

"Well, no one has ever reported seeing a strange man walking a dog at any other Red John crime scene. It's probably just a fluke." Rigsby said, clearly unsure about his assumption.

"No, but it's something worth looking into. Rigsby and Cho, why don't you head out to the last Red John sight and see if you can find any witnesses that might have seen something similar. It might be something they didn't think was important enough to mention. Van Pelt, why don't you get in touch with other law enforcement agencies in the jurisdictions where the previous Red Jon killing have occurred and see if there are any reports of strange men and dogs that got called in. You never know, maybe a there was a twitchy old house wife with nothing better to do than spy on her neighbors with an active imagination. Look for anything, no matter how small."

As my team set to work I felt relived. Sure, we were grasping at straws, but it was something. I walked to my office and grabbed my coat and keys.

"Where are you off to?" Jane asked, standing in the door way to my office and blocking my way.

"I'm off to annoy some more neighbors. We need to find out what type of dog that man was walking." I said, pushing past him. I glanced over my shoulder at him, "Want to come?"

He was by my side before I could reach the elevator. "On the way, you can tell me what's bothering you." His voice was low, and it annoyed me.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Something about this case is bothering you, or something about the man with the dog. What is it?" We rode the elevator to the lobby and walked to my car while I was thinking. Jane, for once, let me think in peace.

"I don't know, Jane. There's just something nagging at the back of my mind, something that I can't quite place my finger on. I'll figure it out eventually."

We got in my car and drive towards the crime scene, I refused to think of it as my street, in relative silence, each of us lost in our own separate thoughts of Red John, and dogs, and homes that have lost the prospect of safety.


	14. Red John

_This day has passed slowly. I want to be able to give Teresa her gift. This man, this want-to-be who thinks he has some sort of power over my dear sweet Teresa. This man thinks he is above all others. He lives in his house at the top of a hill, surrounded by men who are paid to protect him, but that would turn aside at the slightest inclination. All of this false security, this man is nothing, he is a pretender. A mock of what makes me great._

_It hadn't taken me long to figure out how to get into this mausoleum of a home. The larger the house, the easier it is to sneak it. He thinks that electronic security will protect him. He thinks a man with a gun at the front gate will prevent someone form coming in the back. This man was not worthy of being even seen in the same place as my dear sweet Teresa. He is not worthy of her admiration or furry. He is nothing. And tonight, tonight I will make sure that the world knows that. And I will remove the thorn of him from my Teresa's side. Tonight she will have no doubt about my power. I am the one that she will think of at night. I am the one that she will fear and love._


	15. Lisbon

I woke slowly. Yesterday had been a good day. My team had spent the day tracking down old witnesses and police reports to see if anything had come up with the dog angle. And we hadn't found anything yet, but we were still hopeful. I had come back to Jane's hotel room last night as I still had no desire to go back to my place. There was only one bed, but that didn't matter. Jane didn't sleep much and this wasn't the first time we'd had to share a hotel room with a single bed.

"What type of dog do you think it is that he has?" Jane asked as I stirred and started to sit up in the bed. He had already gotten up and dressed, if he'd even gone to sleep last night. It had been after 1:00 when I had gone to bed, and Jane had still been awake, thinking and writing in his note book.

"I don't know." I said, standing. I had borrowed some of Jane's clothes for sleeping, a pair of gym shorts that probably hadn't seen the light of day in years, and a white undershirt. "The description that we got from the witnesses point to the same kind of dog. Small, black, bushy. Maybe it's an unshaved toy poodle."

Jane laughed as I made my way to the bathroom. I only had one more change of clothes left in my go bag; I was going to have to go back to my place at some point. I showered quickly and dressed. When I came out of the bathroom Jane was no longer in the room. I was slightly annoyed, but didn't think anything of it. He didn't owe me a notice that he was leaving his own hotel room, and I had my car here so it wasn't like I had to rely on him for a ride.

I slowly finished getting ready for work. I wasn't as harried as I had been before. After deciding that killing my neighbor was just another way for Red John to play with Jane's mind, and by an extension me and the rest of the team, I had begun to relax. And then with the possibility that Red John might have a dog…I was actually beginning to feel cautiously optimistic. This was the most information we had ever had about him. I had no doubt that Jane was going to spend the day in the attic at the CBI going over his list of people that he had shaken hands with trying to figure out who owned dogs.

But today I didn't care. Today was going to be a good day. I was sure of it.


	16. Rigsby

I've decided that I'm going to stop answering the phone. That shouldn't be a problem at work because Cho is the one who usually answers the phone. I'm not going to answer the phone because then we won't get case. We won't find out that innocent people were killed to fulfill a serial killers sick fantasy. I won't have to hear the dreaded words "We have to talk". I won't find out that my son fell down the stairs, that he is sick, that the day care is closed and there is on one to care for him. He will remain safe in my mind. I can see him after work, I can be with him, and nothing bad will happen with him, or with Sarah, even if she doesn't want to see me.

And then the phone started to ring. I didn't want to answer it. It was going to be bad news. It always was. Someone was dead, or someone was missing, or something worse. I looked around the bullpen, hoping that Cho was around, but he wasn't. He had been just a few minutes ago, maybe he went to the bathroom or to get coffee. Van Pelt isn't in here either, but I remembered her saying she was going outside for a coffee.

Sighing, I accepted the inevitable and reached over to answer the phone. "Rigsby."

I listened to the voice on the other end of the line and felt a knot settle into my stomach. I hung up the phone without saying goodbye and sat there, staring at nothing in particular. I was never answering the phone again.

"Hey, Rigsby, what's wrong?" Van Pelt asked me a few moments later, sitting a coffee cup on her desk.

I shook my head to clear it slightly, if that was even possible, and looked at her. "We just got a call. There's been another Red John murder."

"Another one?" She asked, sitting down heavily in her chair.

"Yeah." I was still in a bit of shock. In all the years I'd been working Red John I'd never seen him kill this close together. It wasn't like him.

"Who was it? Anyone we know?" I knew that she was hoping that it wouldn't be. That it would be a random stranger, that the person killed would have no connection to Lisbon so that the balance in our team would be restored. But I didn't have good news for her.

"Um, yeah." I took a breath before speaking, not able to look at her or anything in particular. "Tommy Volker."


	17. Lisbon

Last night I was convinced that it was a fluke that Red John had killed my neighbor. That it was just a new ploy to get at Red John. The balance had been restored to the universe. My "relationship" with Jane was back to what it had always, and then this. I couldn't drive to the crime scene. Cho drove. I'd seen what feels like a million crime scenes in my life and very rarely have I felt sick, but this is one of those rare times. I was glad that I hadn't been the one to get the call. I don't know that I would have handled it very well.

We pulled up to Volker's house, big and imposing on a hill. How the hell did Red John get in here? Someone must have seen him. There was no way that he could have gotten through an eight foot brick wall and a locked gate and a security system and who knew what else to kill this man. Maybe it wasn't Red John after all. The local cops could be wrong. It could be a copy cat. It could be anyone, it could be. But somehow I know it's not.

None of us speak as we get out of the cars. Rigsby drove here with Van Pelt and Jane. I couldn't be with Jane right now. I'm sure he's feeling worse that I am. Red John is supposed to be his. Red John is supposed to taunt him, not me.

But killing Volker, that wasn't a taunt. It seemed almost like a gift. We didn't have to go to court. We didn't have to hope that a jury believed my story, or Jane's story, or the story of a scared little boy who thought that his mother had been killed. It was almost as if Red John had known that our chances of keeping Volker in jail longer than a few days was next to none.

"Ready to go in?" Jane asked; his voice too casual. I was worried about him. This wasn't good for him, the change of pattern. Red John had never done anything like this before, if I could change it I would.

"I'm sure it's not really Red John." I said, as we feel into step next to each other.

"Oh, I'm sure you're right." He was a horrible liar sometimes.

"It's probably just the local cops over reacting after the case a few days ago. I'm sure it's nothing." I was grasping at straws. I could feel Jane slipping and I needed to keep him grounded.

"It's never nothing where Red John is concerned." Jane said, walking faster to get in front of me.

"Are you guys the CBI?" The uniform cop standing in the foyer of the house asked as we came near.

"Yeah, that's us." I answered tiredly. I didn't bother to introduce myself; this cop wouldn't remember it anyway. If he was like the typical beat cop he just wanted to get out of here and go home where he thought he was safe.

"The body is in here." He said, gesturing to a room off the main hallway. All of us followed him, and while I couldn't speak for the rest of the team, I was stilling myself against the sight I knew would assault us the second we stepped into the room.

The door was open and the first thing I saw was the smile, painted in blood, on the spins of books on a shelf behind a desk. Then I saw Volker's body, still sitting in his executive desk chair, slumped and almost sliding out. He had been shot. That much was clear. But I wasn't sure if it was the gun shot wound to his chest, to the innumerable knife woods that had been the final death blow. There was a lot of hate behind this killing. I wondered if it was just a coincidence that Volker had been Red John's victim, maybe Volker had done something to piss of red John, maybe it was all just a coincidence.

"There are no coincidences where Red John is concerned." I really hated it when Jane read my mind.

I torn my gaze away from the scene in front of me and turned towards the rest of the team which had spread out into the room behind me.

"Rigsby and Cho, you go out and see if y0ou can find someone to talk to who might have seen something, anything, last night or the night before. Neighbors, security, anybody. He had to have planed this, someone might have seen him. Van Pelt; there has to be some sort of security system here, find out who to talk to about getting whatever security footage or codes or whatever so we can see how he got in here."

They nodded, and mumbled, and moved out of the room, all too eager to leave me and Jane and what was sure to be an awkward situation.

"There was a lot of hatred in this murder," Jane said as he wandered about the room that probably served as Volker's office.

"There's always hatred."

"This is different." Jane said, stepping up to the desk in front of Volker. "Red John was trying to send a message."

"Oh?" I wasn't sure I wanted to hear reason Jane thought there was a message.

"Red John doesn't usually use a gun. It's not his style. He likes the feeling of control that using a knife can give you. A gun…it's too quick, too messy." Jane was looking at the body on the bed and I was trying not to care that he seemed to have such an intimate knowledge of the way that Red John thought.

"So, killing men isn't his style either. Maybe Volker did something to piss him off." I had started to look at the things around the room, I wasn't nearly as observant as I should be, and I thought that looking at books and paintings was a better use of my eyes than staring at the bloody broken body of my former nemesis.

"He did." Jane said, sounding very sure of himself.

His response caused me to spin to face him. I looked at Jane as though I thought he were crazy. "If Volker had been speaking out about Red John I'm sure we would have heard about it."

"Oh, no, my dear. Volker didn't speak out against Red John. Oh no. He did something far worse. Volker enraged you. He consumed your time and your energy. Volker took you away from other cases and other people. If Red John has really moved his affection onto you, then this is a gift to you. And a message. Red John doesn't want someone taking up your time that he doesn't feel is worthy of it." There was a manic look to his eyes and a touch of panic almost in his voice.

I didn't know how to respond to that. Other than I knew that I had to keep Jane from convincing himself that Red John had shifted his focus. "Volker distracted you too. I'm sure that's all this is about. You are right that Red John saw Volker as sapping resources that would have normally gone to search for and fight him."

"Oh, Lisbon. Are you really that naive?"

I didn't even have a chance to respond before Jane was out the door and gone. I wasn't sure if I should go after him or not.


	18. Red John

_I watched as the team arrived. Across the street in a cable TV van. No one the wiser to the man in a jumpsuit and tool belt. I hoped that she liked my gift. I took a swig out of the disposable coffee mug in my hand. The liquid had long since gone cold, but I wasn't really drinking it. I can tell a lot about a person by the way that they walk out of one of the houses that I've visited. This would be no different. I needed to know that she got my gift. That she knows how much I did for her. I killed the one man that meant more to her than me. I killed the one thing between me and her. The one man that she had bunted. I should be the one she hunts. Not that scum._

_I saw Rigsby, Cho, Van Pelt, leaving the house. They looked morose, sullen, put upon. Sent to do the work of peons. They seemed happy to go. The have no love for me. Not like my precious Teresa. Off to do the hopeless task of finding me. Of finding some shred of hope that they can catch me._

_I looked down at a cell phone that wasn't on. I know what I look like from the outside, a man eating lunch, waiting for the time to overcharge someone for services they don't even want. I've played this role before. Many times. I know that I will be ignored, just a piece of the scenery._

_Then my old friend Patrick Jane. He didn't look happy. That made me sad. My gift to Teresa should over joy him. I knew there was no love between my gift and my friend, but this anger, this betray, doesn't seem right. He should be happy that I have taken an interest in such a woman as Teresa Lisbon. There hasn't been a woman who has captivated me like she has in quite a while._

_And then I watched as my Teresa come out of the house. She looked annoyed, not pleased like I had hopped. I wondered if my gift had caused a rift between my friend and my love. There had been a petty sort of contest between them, if I recall. A superficial sort of attraction that seemed to do nothing more than distract them from me. I watched as They talked, there seemed to be a heated discussion going on, but I wasn't able to hear them. Not that it mattered. They had received my gift, and that was what I had intended. I put down the cell phone and started the van. I wasn't needed hear any longer._


	19. Van Pelt

I pored over security footage from the house. There had to be something. Red John couldn't be perfect all the time. We knew what time Volker had been killed. We knew how, what we didn't know is how it had happened and NO ONE had seen anything. It didn't seem probable. I sighed and rubbed my eyes. It didn't matter that I was the teams tech officer, my eyes still got strained looking at the screen. I decided to switch days of my search.

The dog had been bothering me. We were still waiting for calls back from former investigators and witnesses. We were still combing the files, but it seemed odd. I put the video cue to the day before the murder and watched in double time as the sun set and as cars drove by. And then, there was a man and a dog. A small black dog. Slightly fluffy. Was it possible? Could this be the same man?

I quickly printed off a screen shot of the man and his dog. It wasn't the best picture, but it was the best that we had.

I looked around the bullpen an saw Cho, pouring over files on his desk. "Hey, Cho. Find anything?"

"Yeah, eight years ago a woman was killed by Red John on a farm in Central California. The farm, in addition to growing corn, also did a small side business in dog breading. One of the puppies went missing and was never found."

"What type of dog?" I asked, looking at the picture that was still warm from the printer.

"Not farm dogs More like lap dogs. Little yappers if I remember correctly." He looked down at the folder, flipping through a few pages before speaking again. "Affenpinschers."

"Are they small black and fluffy?" I asked, moving towards him.

Cho picked a picture up from the file on the desk and showed it to me, it was the same dog that was in the picture in my hand."

We stared at the pictures. It was almost too good to be true. It didn't seem possible. But it was.

"I'm not telling them." Cho said, as he put his picture back in the file.

I sighed. "I'll go."

I took the file off the desk and looked towards Lisbon's office, she wasn't in there. I wasn't going to call her with this. I sat back at my desk and started reviewing more security footage. I put the footage of the Volker house in one corner of my screen and started pulling up footage form past crime scenes, if we could find more, then maybe we could be sure.


	20. Jane

I sat in my attic brooding. Red John shouldn't be going after Lisbon. He should be going after me. He should be taunting me. He should be leaving me "gifts". I know, somewhere deep inside, that this irrational anger isn't healthy, but I can't seem to help it. I wonder if my anger is because Red John is giving attention to someone else, or if it's because he's giving attention to Lisbon. I don't think I want to know the answer.

I stare at the board in front of me. Pictures, maps, newspaper clippings, lines drawn in some bizarre connect the dots. I should be able to figure this out. I should know what the next move is. But I don't, and I can't seem to work out why Red John has changed things, why he had shifted focus.

I close my eyes, sometimes I'm able to visualize things better that way, and replay the crime scene in my head. The blood, not as much as usual, but still there. The face on the wall, red and glistening in the light. And Lisbon, looking for all intents and purposes as though she were in denial.

There was noting new there. I opened my eyes and stood. I needed tea. I remembered that Van Pelt had looked nervous when she saw me come in without Lisbon earlier and cursed that I didn't say anything to her before now.

I slowly made my way down the stairs. The call of a comforting cup of tea a shadow to my desire to know why Van Pelt hadn't wanted to talk to me before. I was heading to search her out, when she called to me first.

"Jane!" I turned and saw her coming up behind me with a rather frazzled and short tempered Lisbon in tow. When I stopped Van Pelt again looked nervous and unsure.

"We think we found something." She said, not looking at me or Teresa.

"Found something?" Lisbon asked. I just looked at the rather thin file in her hand and wondered what she could have discovered that I didn't already know.

"Um, yeah. Five years ago, do you remember a case eight years ago where Red John killed a woman on a farm in Central California?"

She paused and when neither Lisbon or I said anything she went on.

"Well, there was a dog that went missing at the same time. An affenpinscher." She pulled out a picture of a small black dog with a decent amount of hair and then kept talking. "The description of the dog matches that of the one that the witnesses saw the other day, and it also matches a dog that was captured on the surveillance video from Volker's house last night." She pulled out another photo that was slightly grainy, but showed a man in a ball cap with his back to the camera walking a dog that very much looked like the dog in the first picture.

"Is that all?" Lisbon asked, she almost seemed disappointed.

"No, that's not. We reviewed security footage from around crime scenes for the past eight years and found three different times when a man was walking a dog that looked very much like this one. And we showed this picture to the witnesses and they said that it was the same man and dog."

We all stood in silence for a while before Lisbon spoke, awe in her voice. "Red John has a dog."

In my head voices were screaming and cheering. We finally had something. Sure it was small and almost inconsequential, but we had something on Red John. We had a picture, we had a theme, we knew something about him.


	21. Red John

_I sat in front of my computer, my dog in my lap. I scratched him lazily behind the ears as I scrolled through the pages on the screen. It had been a few days since I had killed Tommy Volker, and I felt the need to see where the "investigation" had gone. I knew there would be nothing, but I still liked to see._

_I had a backdoor into the CBI website, a backdoor into what was supposed to be a secure, impenetrable website. I looked over case notes and personal logs, privet notes that people kept for their own wonderings. And then I saw something I thought I never would. There was a picture of me and my dog. I had gotten careless, I had let my guard down._

_I looked down at the dog in my lap. I had enjoyed him. He had been very good to me. But now he was a liability. And that would not do._


	22. Lisbon

The past month had been rather uneventful. Red John hadn't killed anyone, at least, no one that we knew about, and the flow of regular cases had continued and Red John had gotten pushed to the back burner like he always did.

We had just closed a case and I had stopped by the coffee cart outside to grab a cup of coffee that wouldn't eat a hole in my stomach when the security guard pointed towards me and a messenger walked to me, holding a rather large box.

"Delivery for Teresa Lisbon," he said, holding out a clip board for me to sign.

"Stay here." I said, taking the box after I signed. I didn't get packages very often and the cases that I worked made me very weary of anything coming that I wasn't expecting. I walked to a small table next to the cart where people often stirred their coffee and use the tip of a key to cut open the tape. The smell hit me first.

Cautiously, I nudged open the flap and gasped at what I saw inside. A small ball of black hair, slick with what must have been blood. A dog. There was a piece of paper stuck to the top of what had been at one time a lovely animal. The only thing on it was a red mark that I knew all too well.

Red John.

The one thing that we had on him was now sitting in front on me. I felt the world crashing around me. We had lost again.


End file.
